54 Trails to Woods and Waters 



" This was the last great tragic event in my 

 life, that is, until I was laid low, just as my 

 sire had been. For fifty years more after the 

 great forest fire, I lived the quiet, peaceful 

 life of a sentinel pine, spreading my plumes 

 to heaven and adorning the brow of the moun- 

 tain. Grand and majestic, a thing of wonder 

 and beauty, a living, breathing spire of deep 

 blue green, a landmark for the weary traveler 

 for miles around. 



" One crisp December morning when I was 

 something over two hundred and fifty years 

 old, two men came and stood by me and 

 talked and their conversation concerned me. 



" One was the grave old gentleman upon 

 whose land I stood and who owned me, the 

 other was a lumber merchant. 



" * It's a noble old tree/ said my owner, 

 passing his hand caressingly over my bark. 

 ' It has stood here as the sentinel pine, looking 

 just as it does now, ever since I can remember. 

 In fact, when I was a boy it looked taller 

 than it does now, but I suppose that was just 

 my boyish fancy. It must be one hundred 



